


Expect The Unexpected

by DodgerBear



Series: Sex Advice, Milkovich-style [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Cheesy, Fluffy, Humour, Light-Hearted, M/M, Married Life, Mickey tells straight guys how to get laid, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DodgerBear/pseuds/DodgerBear
Summary: Mickey is the maintenance man in an office block and gets embroiled in the lives of some straight guys who can’t get laid. In true Mickey style, he tells it like it is.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Sex Advice, Milkovich-style [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833898
Comments: 46
Kudos: 407





	Expect The Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> The cheesiest and fluffiest of one shots! Hope you enjoy.  
> Let me know what you think 🧡
> 
> Come say hey on tumblr @dodgerbear84

It was the almost the end of the working day on a pretty unremarkable Tuesday in October. The office block where Mickey Milkovich worked was ticking over nicely so he didn’t have a whole lot left to do with his afternoon. He had some general maintenance to take care of - the leaking faucet in the men’s room on the 14th floor had been reported again and it was pissing him off that it had broken a week after he fixed it - but otherwise he could take it easy. He used the service elevator to head up from the basement, checking his appearance in the mirror. His role as Head of Maintenance & Janitorial Services (read: General Fucking Dogsbody) meant that he got a little messed up during the day. The fact that this block was corporate as shit (read: full to the brim of pretentious fucking assholes who made more in a day than he did in a month) meant that he had to keep on top of his outward appearance. His black polo with the company logo was in decent shape considering he’d spent the morning fixing an AC unit in the basement but he had dust and shit in his short dark hair. He brushed it out and smirked at the reflection of his tattooed fingers. The black ink was faded but it was still easy to read the message. He could tidy up his hair and wipe smudges of oil off his face until the end of time but nothing could remove his Southside stamp. Corporate assholes sneered at him but he was the best in the business so it got them nowhere. Mickey Milkovich was a born and raised hood rat. A good job with health benefits and insurance was never going to change that. 

He stepped out onto the 14th floor, which housed office space for a stock brokerage. The very idea of working for this company made Mickey fall asleep. He almost made it to the men’s room with his toolbox swinging in his hand when a door to his right swung open. 

“You!” A voice barked and Mickey did a full pirouette to see who the fuck this asshole was talking to. Finding nobody else in the corridor, Mickey sniffed and swiped at his nose with his thumb. A more streetwise man would know he’d just poked a bear and would be looking for the nearest exit that wasn’t a window. But this was not a streetwise man Mickey was looking at. Bald, overweight and over 50. This guy was not exactly setting Mickey’s world on fire. 

“Can I help you, _sir_?” Mickey drawled, eyebrows arched in perfect symmetry. 

“Yes. Get in here. I have a conference call to Japan starting in half an hour and the stupid VC isn’t working.” The man snapped and stalked back into the room, leaving Mickey staring back at him incredulously. 

Mickey stomped into the room and found the guy sitting back at the head of the table, with three other guys already seated and all at various stages of balding. “You know I’m not one of those IT nerds, right? I’m maintenance.”

Four pairs of eyes looked his way with identical looks of disinterest. 

“Just give it a try.” The guy from the corridor waved his hand dismissively at the video equipment and returned to his paperwork. Mickey scowled in annoyance. The next time he was checking himself out in the elevator mirror it would be to practice his ‘don’t fuck with me’ glare and not wasting time on his fucking hair because he’d clearly been letting it slide lately.

“Sometime today please. Mr Tamayaro is a big client. I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Mickey’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Listen. I dunno who the fuck you think I am. And I sure as fuck don’t care who the fuck Mr Tamagotchi is. But I fix heaters and AC and busted pipes. This technical shit? Not my bag.”

The four pairs of eyes met Mickey’s in painful silence. He levelled them a stern expression in return and stood his ground. 

“You fix this and I’ll pay you $50.” 

Mickey could smell desperation coming off the guy in waves. No way would a paper pushing corporate douchebag let a glorified janitor get away with that kind of talk if he wasn’t up shit creek. He crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes to deadly points. 

“$100.”

“Done.”

Mickey glanced at the mass of cables and equipment with slight trepidation. Sure, he knew how to wire a plug and he could use his laptop to video call Mandy from time to time but he wasn’t actually exaggerating when he said this shit wasn’t his bag. 

“I would’ve paid $1,000.” The bald guy smirked in triumph as he slapped a crisp bill on the table beside Mickey. 

“I would’ve done it for $50.” Mickey shot back. “Now we gonna stand here and trade Pretty Woman quotes all day or should I crack on?”

The man blushed and his cronies chuckled quietly while Mickey turned around and sized up the task in hand. The monitor had no power. That’s a start. He can give things power. 

With Mickey tinkering away with the hardware, the four suits in the room started chatting while they waited. Mickey had to keep his back to them so they wouldn’t clock him rolling his eyes so hard he was in danger of pulling a muscle. 

“I just don’t know what her problem is. We have a lovely home. The kids are settled down. We vacation in Cabo three times a year. And she’s still miserable as sin.” One guy with a bushy beard and glasses muttered. 

“Maybe it’s her age.” Suit Number Three suggested, his forehead glowing with a sheen of sweat. “You know, women feel like having sex a lot less when they get to her age.”

“Oh sure.” Corridor Guy agreed earnestly. “Judy is the same. Have to negotiate for it like I‘m playing chess. She just isn’t interested.”

“I don’t know...Helen seems to still enjoy sex.” The fourth man chipped in sullenly. “Just not with me.”

“I told you when you married her that she would be trouble, Martin. You’d think after three failed marriages you’d listen to your oldest friend.” Corridor Guy huffed. 

“Well come on, David. Who was he going to listen to? You or the voluptuous Mrs Gascoigne, half his age and twice his batting average?” The bearded guy joked, hiding his own personal pain for a moment. 

“Hilarious, I’m sure.” Martin scowled. “At least my wife can still stand to be in the same room as me for more than an hour.”

Mickey was listening to the volley of accusations and commiserations between the men with utter disdain. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he checked his messages. It was Ian, asking where to meet him after work. Mickey smiled and tapped a response before returning to his eavesdropping. It was heating up now and Bearded Guy was taking a lot of shit from his so- called friends and was ready to snap. 

“It’s not like I’m asking for much. Surely she’s got time to suck me off before I go to work and she meets up with Sally and Martha at the country club.”

It was all too much for Mickey. He couldn’t hold back the bubble of laughter as it rose in his chest and spilled out into the room. 

“Holy fuck.” He blurted out. “Is this really how you guys spend your lives?”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Corridor Guy - David - gasped. 

“Nah. Seriously man, you think this shit is normal?”

The suits all stared at Mickey like he was speaking Klingon. He rolled his eyes again and felt the strain he’d put them under. 

“Jesus Christ. If this is what being a corporate suit means I’m glad I’m not into all that bullshit.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Bearded Guy raged, his face turning red. 

“Four of the biggest pussies in Chicago, by the sounds of it. Fuck me sideways, guys. Is it any wonder you can’t get laid?” Mickey was on a roll and nobody was going to stop him. “I mean, let’s talk romance for a second guys. Heard of that?”

“Oh what do you know? You’ve probably got baby mamas all over the city chasing your ass for child support.” Martín glowered at Mickey. 

“Wrong again. I’m married.” Mickey raised his hand, the light catching the metal of his wedding ring and glinting in a way that made Mickey’s stomach swoop with pride. “And I am SAT-IS-FIED.”

“Bullshit. Anybody who says marriage doesn’t change your sex life is a goddamn liar.” David snapped, leaning back in his chair. 

“Bullshit to your bullshit, man. My sex life got better. You think the voluptuous Mrs Gascoigne gets excited by the thought of sucking her husband off for five minutes before he blows his load and then disappears to the office for the next 16 hours? Fuck off. She wants romance! Being spontaneous and shit!”

“Oh yeah? And when was the last time you had sex?” Martin sneered at Mickey. 

Mickey scoffed a laugh and checked his watch. “Ninety minutes ago.”

All four men leaned on the table with their jaws hanging open. 

“No way.” David shook his head. “You didn’t. You couldn’t have.”

“Supply closet on the 27th floor.” Mickey wiggled his brows and grinned. “Fucking awesome.”

“You had sex _on the clock_?” The unnamed and unbearded man gaped at him. Mickey stalled for a second, his brain whirring as he thought about whether or not this dude had any connection to the HR department that decided his future. Fuck it, he decided. He was all in now. 

“No. I had sex on my lunch break.” Mickey replied primly. “What can I tell you? I like my sandwich with a side order of hot fucking.”

“No way.” David snapped, determined to call Mickey out. “27 is Meyers, Coalfield and Holmes. Biggest law firm in the city. There’s no chance you’d get away with screwing around in their supply closet!”

Mickey leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I would if I was screwing a lawyer.”

David slumped back in his chair and sighed heavily. “Okay. You win. Tell us all you know.”

Mickey chuckled and smoothed down his polo shirt. “It’s easy fellas. None of this treat ‘em mean keep ‘em keen bullshit. No spending 23 out of 24 hours in the office. No staying late to talk to some dude on the other side of the world when an email would do the trick. You gotta put the time in, man. I learned over the years...it’s all about being there. Listen to her talk about her day. Ask questions so she knows you’ve listened. Make dinner together some nights. Take a walk in the fucking rain. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s about being there. And not just when your dick is hard and you want somewhere to shove it.” Mickey explained crudely. 

“How old are you?” Martin asked. 

“27.”

“How long have you been married?” 

“Three months.” Mickey answered. 

Martin burst into disbelieving laughter. “Three months! What the fuck do you know, kid? Your wedding cake is probably still in the fridge.”

“Fuck off.” Mickey retorted. “It’s been three months but we were ghetto married for ten years before that. We met when I was 16 and fucking up my life left, right and center. We made it through so much shit and hurt and suffering. You wanna ignore what I’m saying, fine. Nothing to do with me. But maybe I should give you a number for this lawyer I know for when your fourth marriage hits the skids...”

“Take a walk in the rain huh.” David mused aloud. “You think that shit works?”

“I know it does. And who knows? Maybe a walk in the rain one night could turn into a quickie in a Wendy’s parking lot where the broken street light is...” Mickey winked. 

“I thought you said it wasn’t about sex.” Bearded Guy scowled. 

Mickey shrugged. “It’s not. But it’s a huge fuckin bonus if it leads there anyway. And more often than not? It does. I’ve fucked around in some pretty weird places...”

“Like?” The almost silent guy asked gently. 

Mickey grinned. “Lemme think...dugouts at the baseball field in my neighborhood...on a jetty down on the docks...in the back of a van parked on the side of a road...under the bleachers at my old high school...the basement of this building...the copy room on 16th...the copy room on 21st come to think of it...the restroom of a bar...Taco Bell...at a Slipknot tribute band gig...”

“Okay. Okay. I get the picture.” The man was turning green and Mickey wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or envy that was causing it. 

“Show a little interest in what’s going on in her world and boom! Sex will fall into your lap.” Mickey summarized with a shrug. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll get you that number for my lawyer.”

There was a knock at the door and it opened a little way so Ian could pop his head inside. He saw Mickey and grinned, pushing the door open and stepping inside. 

“Hey babe. Ready to go?” He beamed, the joy of seeing the grumpy maintenance man clearly written on his handsome, freckled face. 

Mickey smiled and nodded. “Good to go, Red.”

He picked up his tool box and glanced around at the stunned group of men watching their every movement. He slid the money off the table and handed it to Ian. 

“Dinner is on me tonight.” He winked and Ian’s eyes shone with happiness. 

“But...you didn’t fix...” David spluttered. 

Mickey growled, his annoyance rearing its head again and he jabbed the remote control so the monitor came to life. “Fixed it in the first five minutes. Next time, check the power cable is plugged in before you yank some random in to sort out your shit.”

“Oh.” David exhaled. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. See you guys around. Maybe avoid the men’s room on this floor tonight. I was meant to fix the leak in there but I got accosted by you guys instead. Okay, see ya. Say hey to Mr Tamagotchi for me.” Mickey saluted and took Ian’s outstretched hand with his spare one, turning his back on the gaping table of suits. “Hey Red, wanna grab Taco Bell for dinner?”

Ian chuckled merrily. “We’re not allowed back in there, remember?”

Mickey giggled too. “Oh shit yeah. Worth it though. Chipotle it is.”

The door slammed shut behind them and the room was left in silence, until an angry Japanese man appeared on screen blasting them for their tardiness. 

“So sorry, Mr Tamagotchi. I MEAN MR TAMAYARO! It won’t happen again...”


End file.
